


Amistad

by churb



Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, In a way, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Trichotillomania, at one point he pulls his hair out deliberately, basically it's an X IS SAD fic, does that count, except i'm hoping to make it actually good.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-02-27 21:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2707337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/churb/pseuds/churb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amistad: Noun, Spanish. From Latin *amicitas, *amicitatis, from amicitia "friendship".</p><p>Or alternatively, in which Wander has a bit of a bad day.</p><p>And it doesn't really stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do i have an excuse for this?
> 
> mage made me do it
> 
> there we go there's ur excuse

Sometimes, he thinks, he enjoys the social interaction more than the actual deed.

No, no, that doesn't sound right. He doesn't mean to imply (not that anyone can hear his train of thought but he does worry about his tone) that he doesn't enjoy helping people. Because he does. He has his own reasons for enjoying it quite so much. Or for the frankly irritating compulsion. Whichever way you want to look at it.

He just sometimes kind of wishes...no, wait, that's not fair. People do.

Don't be selfish.

.....Sometimes he feels less appreciated than other times. There. That's an acceptable thought that he can let himself think without feeling bad.

Wander sits up and tries to get the ringing out of his ears. Behind him, the guy's still yelling, and Wander rubs the back of his head, glancing up at him in a somewhat nervous way.

"--and what do you expect me to do now? Who even are you people?"

He's not entirely sure why this guy's so mad. Wander fidgets.

"Sir, I am so sorry. You see, we were just trying to help--"

"You destroyed my wall, you flarping idiot! How does this help me?" Wander tries to explain himself, but he's cut off. "And let's get something straight here, buster, I don't need your help. Not from you, or your dumb horse--"

Fortunately, mentioning Sylvia is apparently enough to snap her out of whatever shock she was in and she steps forward and stares the guy down. Which is very effective. Sylvia is a combination of tall and kind of terrifying.

"Maybe we should talk about this inside." And her tone of voice doesn't seem to give any other option. "I think you're kind of upsetting my buddy here."

Here we go.

Wander waits for them to go back into the guy's slightly ruined house before standing, looking around himself. Being literally thrown out had not exactly done wonders for his back (or his side. Impact.) and he rubs his arm and tries to ignore the arguing going on inside. He doesn't want her to argue about him. He doesn't want her to worry about him.

Not that he doesn't appreciate it! He just doesn't want to cause any trouble.

.....Though after today, it almost seems like that's what he's good at.

He doesn't like it when things go wrong. it makes him feel bad. It hurts his chest and makes him feel....well, bad? Inadequate. Like he's really really good at fucking things up. There's probably a word he could have used in place of all that exposition but he can't find it right now.  
  
His chest hurts now. It's just a little, but it's noticeable. The shouting is loud and he kind of wants something to distract himself with but his music player's broken. Lord Hater threw it in a volcano. Wander's not entirely sure he really knows how to play fair. Or just. Play in general.

Come on, don't be rude. He's probably great at something else. He's very.... charismatic. Yeah.

Eventually Sylvia appears, and she doesn't look happy, It's immediately obvious so Wander keeps silent as she picks him up and places him on her back, surprisingly gently considering she looks like she's going to explode.

The man is still yelling, sticking his head out of the hole in the wall. Sylvia yells back. She's not being very polite. Normally he'd joke about her language blah blah you can tell she's a space criminal but he decides now is probably not the time.

He clings and waits for it to blow over.

Eventually, when they get out of earshot, he hears his name, and it takes him a minute to work out that she's been trying to get his attention.

"Still okay up there?"

He nods.

"Ugh, I'm sorry about that, buddy. You didn't do anything wrong, okay. The guy's just a...ugh. I can't even find the words--"

That's funny, he thinks, she sure found plenty of words just now.

"I don't know, Syl. I did kind of blow up his wall." He fiddles with his hands nervously, before remembering he needs to hold onto the reigns or he's going to fall off. He's bruised enough already. "I don't even know how it happened."

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you keep a Zardox as a pet. What did he think was gonna happen."

He can't find an argument for that. Twenty foot long and incredibly stupid is generally a bad combination. Especially considering it was just so cute! And playable with!

"Look, Wander, it's fine. Don't worry about it. I'm sure we'll find plenty of other people who need your help."

-*-

As it happens, he did.

This did not in any sense of the term make him feel any better.

It's the seventh house he's been to, the seventh person he's helped, and all of them have ended the same way. He did something, however minor, and now they're screaming at him to get out of their house.

None of them even thanked him. He can understand the first guy being angry, but he can't help but think this is kind of ridiculous.

This time, he doesn't stick around. Sylvia drags him away before the lady finishes her sentence. And, amazingly enough, only throws back three or four choice words herself. 

So Wander settles himself on her back again (Sylvia's back, he mentally adds, because he doesn't think the old woman would appreciate this response to her argument) and rests his chin on his hands, and makes a small, miserable noise. Today was not a good day, he thinks. Obviously the right path, right place ideology wasn't really working out right now.

This makes him feel slightly more sick.

Oh, Sylvia's talking.

"--we just had a bad day, that's all. I don't think they wanted our help today, pal."

Wander vaguely wonders why she's being the optimistic one in this situation, but doesn't vocalise this thought and instead gives a little nod.

Sylvia sighs.

"Look, why don't we go back to that diner we found last week? Get one of those Berryboom smoothie things. Maybe a cake. Would that make you feel any better?"

No. No, it would not, but, he reminds himself, Sylvia is being nice to him, and he needs to appreciate that more. God, he's so ungrateful sometimes.

Don't be selfish.

So Wander considers this. "....A blueberry one?"

"If you want." He can almost hear her finding it funny. She doesn't verbally chuckle but he just knows she's thinking it.

Normally he'd respond with a sort of happy squeal, but he's really not in the mood for that. So instead he wraps her arms around her a little tighter. "You are great."

"Oh, shut up. You too, buddy." She gives him an affectionate sort of nudge with her head.

He doubts this.


	2. Chapter 2

The smoothie doesn't really help as much as he'd hoped it would.

He was actually quite excited for it when they got there, when they ordered, but now it's sat in front of him he's not entirely sure he wants to drink it. It's a large one, two straws. He's going to have to drink it eventually; he highly doubts Sylvia could drink a large by herself, even with her extensive food habit. But then, he's one to talk.

So he stirs his drink instead of, well, drinking it, and stares at the table and tries to snap himself out of it. Sylvia's taken him here and bought him a smoothie and he's supposed to be happy and he's  _ruining_ it. He does not feel like a very good friend sometimes. Right now is one of those times.  
  
He needs to appreciate the things people do for him more, he thinks. The waves of unease and self (not loathing, a vague sort of dislike) are coming on strong now. He needs to consider other people's feelings more.  
  
Don't be selfi  
  
"You gonna drink that or just stir it for the next millennia?"  
  
Oh. He kind of forgot she was here for a moment. This is exactly why he's shit at being a friend.  
  
Wander mumbles a "sorry" and takes a sip. It's quite sweet. He loved it last week but now he's not so sure.  
  
There's a pause.  
  
"....You're still bummed about today, aren't you."  
  
Nod nod. And in his personal opinion he has every reason to be. But he doesn't say that.  
  
She sighs again and he can't help but think that he makes her do that a lot. He's trying not to be negative because he's being far too (well, negative) and he's seeing the bad in everything and Sylvia's trying to  _cheer him up, for fuck's sake--_  
  
"Look, Wander, you didn't do anything wrong. It was just a bad day. Apparently, we crash landed on Planet of the Jerks." She pauses. "We'll just turn in, not go back there again, and not worry about it, okay."  
  
There's nothing he can say to that so he just nods.   
  
Beat.  
  
"Sylvia?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
 _i'm sorry i'm ruining this for you i completely get you're trying to cheer me up and you're doing great the only reason it's not working is because i just don't feel like i can be cheered up right now it's not your fault i just keep ruining things_  
  
He can't say all that so he just thanks her instead.  
  
-*-  
  
He doesn't sleep much that night.  
  
He has days where he feels bad about himself. He has days where he doesn't feel like a very good friend. He has days where he feels really, really low and he justifies it because, haha, who doesn't. Just keep swimming don't give up right path right place doing good whatever the fuck. Blah blah candoditude. Sometimes he does genuinely believe it but there are times like right now where he doubts this advice has any leverage.  
  
He hasn't felt as bad as he does tonight in a long time.  
  
In fact, to his memory, ever. And he's had some pretty low points. 

(The image of a metal door springs to mind haha he's  _going to stop thinking about that now_ )  
  
He's not on top of Sylvia like usual. He's at her side, and she's safely snoozing away in Marshfalaffle Apple Meadow which is good for her. He'd like to be there. But sleep isn't coming easy tonight, for whatever reason.

He's getting kind of cold.   
  
He wriggles his hat a bit closer to her at first, and then stops. He doesn't want to wake her up. Usually he has no problem cuddling up to her and she sleeps through most things but something is making him stay where he is so that's what he does.  
  
He looks at her for a little longer before rolling over and attempting to sleep some more.  
  
...  
  
It's hopeless. He lays on his back and stares at the sky for a while, curling himself up under his hat more. God, it's freezing. is that just him? It's nearly winter, he thinks. Maybe tomorrow they should find a warmer planet to sleep on.  
  
Under the hat, his arm is starting to bleed. He doesn't notice.

  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trichotillomania is a bitch huh


	3. Chapter 3

He feels better the next day.  
  
The lack of sleep didn’t do much for him, especially now that his side is starting to bruise and oh yeah, he definitely pulled a muscle somewhere. Eh. He decides it’s okay because he can just sail through it like he does everything else and of course he doesn’t really have to walk anywhere.   
  
~~Doesn’t change the fact it hurts like a _bitch_ , though.~~

He’s tired, Sylvia’s tired (though he’s not sure why, she was dead to the world for about eleven hours) (at least he thinks so, he doesn’t remember much) so apparently this means a relaxing, non crazy day is on the cards. And this apparently means being dragged around a shopping centre.  
  
It’s okay, he supposes. It’s not like there’s anyone around at this time of the week. And there are loads of neat things here that totally pique his interest! It’s just…on the other hand, if he has to look at any more drop hem knit cardigans he is going to go _crazy._  
  
That skirt is nice, though. Wander rifles through them to see if they have anything even vaguely resembling his size. He’s disappointed. Clothes stores never do, apparently. He finds this unreasonable. He’s not _that_ short.  
  
“Yeah, no, you’re not going to find anything your size here.”

He does not sulk, because he is an adult. But if he wasn’t, he would be sulking right now. “I don’t find my size anywhere.” A whole galaxy of diversity and apparently nobody is three foot tall.

“Psh. Fancy designers. What do you expect? Their models are probably all the same woman.”

He blinks. “Oh, like Trudi?”

“…I was being fececious but you know what, that wouldn’t surprise me.”

Wander dwells on this possibility while Sylvia fishes around in a carrier bag (fancy designers, she says mockingly, while buying all their shit) and eventually she pulls something out. “Check out this hat, though.”

He can’t bring himself to be enthusiastic. It is a hat. It goes on heads. (Does it throw random crap at you on demand, like his? He thought not.) But that’s more because he’s tired. Being energetic about things takes a lot of….

……..energy.

He needs to learn to _speak_ , jeez.

Sylvia is now wearing the hat. “Do you think it’s my colour?”

“Absoloutely.” He resists the temptation to add it’s not as cool as his. “How many hats did you buy?” He meant it as a genuine question, but with the awkward pause and then the speed at which she points out the pretzel stand, she might as well be screaming “look Wander, a distraction!”

So while Sylvia’s munching her pretzel he sits on the floor and rifles through the bags. There’s hats and necklaces and a whole lot of sale labels. She’s gotten good at this, evidently. He moves on through the bags, and she doesn’t pay him much notice until he gets to one in particular and she grabs his arm.

“Wait, no, you can’t look in that one.”

He blinks at her again. “Why not?”

There’s a sort of sly smile on her face. “You have to wait.”

…Oh. _Oh._ It is nearly winter, after all. He makes a sort of happy squealing noise, and he’s about to stand when he realises she’s still holding onto his arm.

“Uh—“

“Wander.”

She doesn’t sound happy any more. She doesn’t sound angry, either. More sort of concerned. He shuffles into a comfortable position and takes a look at the arm in question.

She’s moved her hand, and it looks more like she’s examining it now. He can understand why, suddenly. There are large patches of his fur missing, and some of it is uneven, like it’s been really badly cut off.

The skin underneath is reddened, and he notices a little dried blood on it.

…….shit. Suddenly he feels sick. Sick and nervous.

“Wander.”

Did she say something else? He’s not sure. He’s suddenly very uncomfortable. “What happened.”

He needs to think of something. All that comes out is a weak laugh, and Wander shuffles. “Oh, uh. I. I must be…shedding. Or something. Pretty weird, right—“

“It’s nearly winter. Why would you be shedding?”

He can’t think of an answer to that.

“And _shedding_ doesn’t look like this.” Her shoulders drop. “Come on, we both know what happened. And I also know you only do this when something’s bugging you. So what’s bugging you.”

He really wants her to let go of his arm.  
  
He just sort of stares at her for a while, because he has no idea what to say to that, and there's an awkward silence for a while before she helps him up and lets go. "It was yesterday, right."  
  
"Well, I. I don't remember." And he's not lying. He doesn't remember the previous night much, if at all. It seems to work, and she sighs again but she doesn't press the issue. 

It doesn't really matter. He feels bad all over again.

-*-

He was hoping sleeping would be easier that night. More so than the last, anyway.

He was wrong.

It's cold again. He's not sure why, Sylvia said this planet was warm, he'd told her he hadn't slept because he was cold and she brought them here because apparently it was fairly....hot, he guesses. There's probably a better word.

He still wants to wake her up.

But he tells himself no, he can't do that. Just because he can't sleep and his head's starting to hurt doesn't mean he should ruin it for her.

 _Don't be selfish_.

His arm is still sore where the hair is gone and aching where he fell on it. He keeps catching himself pulling his fur out because his hand goes to that arm and then it hurts.

He can't do that. He can't disappoint Sylvia any more.

....where was he? Oh, yeah, it's freezing. At least, he is. He's not sure about Sylvia, and he hasn't got anyone else to ask.

He doesn't have anyone, really. He reminds himself that Sylvia is not the only partner he's had. And he knows from experience she might not stay long.

He really, really hopes that happens anyway.

Wander rolls over and stares at his companion and reminds himself that he's lucky. Not that someone generally is putting up with his shit (but that is the case) (ugh no shut up) but that she's just generally wonderful.

He wants to say she's the real hero. He wants to say that she could be so much more if he was, that she could do so many great things if he wasn't pulling her down all the time if she didn't have to put up with him if he  
  
wasn't  
  
....here?  
  
It's a daunting thought. He puts it out of his head and reminds himself that he's making this about him. It's kind of pathetic. So instead he rolls back over and tries to sleep some more.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that what I was doing regarding wander's trichotillomania could be seen as some kind of child friendly allegory for cutting
> 
> that's not what I was trying to do and I apologise if it causes any trigger or offense X: if I wanted self harming in that sort of way I would have just written it in, so that wasn't really what I was going for ono

It's been five days.  
  
During these five days, he hasn't slept much, and for about three of them he hasn't slept at all. Since the whole damn thing began he's probably only gotten about four hours in total.  
  
This has the uncomfortable side effect of making him feel dizzy and kind of anxious all the time. Part of him wonders why Sylvia hasn't noticed yet but he decides she probably has better things to worry about.  
  
Still, he likes the planet they're on today. It's kind of muddy and sort of warm. Or maybe that's just his jacket. He doesn't usually wear clothes and he doesn't even know if Sylvia bought this for him or herself but he was given strict instructions to keep it on on account that A half the fur on his arm is missing and he's going to get cold and B it stops him picking at the bandages.  
  
He's not exactly sure why she bandaged it but sure, whatever.  
  
Anyway. The jacket is nice. It's green and it kind of goes with his hat. It was a very generous donation. He needs to appreciate the things she does for him and stop being such a dick all the time.  
  
Don't be  
  
"Wander?"  
  
He realizes he was so deep in thought he is now knee high in particularly sinkable-in mud. He takes Sylvia's hand and pulls himself out.  
  
"Yeah, let's not do that again, buddy."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
She fiddles with his jacket in an oddly maternal and slightly annoying way and they keep walking.  
  
The wind's picking up. He can feel it. He wraps his arms around himself and pulls his jacket closer and oh hell, he's back to being cold again. He literally _just_ warmed back up for the first time in, like, a week.  
  
"Is it just me," he mumbles, "Or did it just get....really windy."  
  
Sylvia's staring straight ahead. Wander leans over and pokes her.  
  
"Syl?"  
  
Eventually, she responds with "That's not wind."  
  
Which makes absolutely zero fucking sense so he just completely disregards this cryptic and lightly worrying comment and keep walking until he feels a sort of vibration in the ground. And then.  
  
 "Hate's great, best villain!"  
  
Oh _no._  
  
He is so not in the mood for this today. Wander sighs, and turns in the general direction of _yep there we go._  
  
Thousands upon thousands of Watchdogs tumble out of the open mouth of the ship, running towards and then past Wander and Sylvia in a sort of way that makes the latter think they're not too sure where they're going. "Hate's great, best villain!"  
  
Bringing up the rear is their Commander, as always, and even though he doesn't have a mouth it's pretty obvious he's smili  
  
Was.  
  
"Oh no. How. How do you two keep doing that?"  
  
"Magic." Sylvia deadpans, at the same time that Wander asks "Do what?"  
  
"That. That thing where you just. Turn up. Everywhere we try to go."  
  
There's a pause there, and it's awkward, and Peepers' eye twitches, and then Wander turns to Sylvia. "Well, it was kind of wind."  
  
"I was trying to be dramatic."  
  
They're both pulled out of this monologue by a whole lot of evil laughter, which (they hadn't noticed until now) seemed to keep getting louder, until it suddenly stops and Wander comes to the awkward realization that Lord Hater is stood right next to them.  
  
And then he says "Peepers."  
  
"Sir."  
  
"You said this planet was _previously undiscovered_."  
  
"Well....it was."  
  
Hater gestures to Wander with a vaguely unhappy (read: furious) look on his face.  
  
Peepers stares at him before turning back to Hater. "I don't know how they keep doing that."  
  
"I don't _care_ how they keep doing it. _Get them out._ "  
  
Wander sees Sylvia crack her knuckles.  
  
-*-  
  
They win the fight, of course. They usually do.  
  
Ugh. **Sylvia does, he corrects himself. He does nothing. He never contributes to it at all. That's one of his problems.  
  
He's selfish.  
  
At some point, hs jacket was ripped off, but he barely notices. Sylvia has Peepers by the shirt.  
  
"Wanna know the best part?" she says. "This planet is uninhabited, genius."  
  
And then she punches him in the face.  
  
Hater storms over, and Wander grabs his jacket, looking over to see Peepers pick himself up off the floor. "Sir." He says weakly. "There's no one on this planet to conquer."  
  
A pause.  
  
"....I knew that." Hater says. "This was. Uh. This was a test run." Suddenly more forceful. " _And you failed!!"  
  
_ Another pause. Hater gives Wander a once over.  
  
"Actually." He says. "You did some damage.  That's a...pretty nasty scrape. Lot of fur missing. So. Good job on that I guess. Uh. Try _actually killing him next time."  
  
_ Peepers opens his mouth, closes his mouth, looks up at Wander, and he can see the former furrow his brow (whatever brow giant eyes tend to have) in confusion before obviously shrugging off whatever was on his mind. With a final "Sir, yes, sir" they leave, and Wander watches him go with a vague sort of confusion before he works out what Hater's referencing.  
  
He thinks about this a lot later on, as Sylvia takes him to the diner again to cheer him up. There is nothing pie won't solve, apparently. He's not really in the mood for pie. His arm hurts more and he feels selfconscious from the brief reveal of his injuries and he thinks he's a bit more bruised where one of the Watchdogs knocked him over. (Janice? Craig? Lauren. Definitely Lauren.)  
  
Sylvia's talking.  
  
"I actually took you there so you could find someone to help." she confesses through a mouthful of jellyfish.  
  
"Then how did you know it was uninhabited?" Wander pokes his pie and bites his lip.  
  
"I guessed."  
   
Wander attempts to dwell on this before he's interrupted.  
  
"Hey." says someone. "That's the guy who destroyed my house!"  
  
Wander's stomach flips over, but before it can recieve any sort of nomation for it's impressive gymnastics, Sylvia is already up and to the speaker's table.  
  
"Okay, firstly, your oversized pet destroyed your wall. Secondly, quit _harassing_ him. He apologised. It wasn't even his fault, you gropdarn ham strangler."  
  
Wander cringes.  
  
While Sylvia is giving this guy hell, people from other tables are starting to notice. He feels a lot of eyes on him and he bites his lip. He is not comfortable with this situatio  
  
"He dropped my cat!"  
  
What.  
  
Wander shrinks back in his seat, as one by one people start speaking up.  
  
"He made me burn my cakes!"  
  
"He disorganized my library!"  
  
"He knocked over a chair and it _marked the floor_."  
  
Sylvia's speechless now, and Wander sinks further under the table. His hands are shaking and he feels like he's going to throw up.  
  
"He got my baby too excited, and now she won't sleep!"  
  
His chest is tightening god what's happening why are they  
  
"He put coloured paper in my clean paper drawer!"  
  
shouting so loud those aren't even real problems  
  
"He moved my desk to the left too much!"  
  
he didn't mean to do any of it stop  
  
"He  
  
stop  
  
"He  
  
stop  
  
"And then he  
  
st _op_  
  
 _"He_  
  
 _"He_  
  
 _"And_  
  
 _"And then my cat_  
  
 _"He ruined_  
  
 _"He wrecked_  
  
"Jeez." said the first guy. "Does this guy just break everything he touches?"


	5. Chapter 5

At this point, he runs.  
  
Literally, he throws himself from his table and runs as fast as he can, and he doesn't know or care if he bumps into anything or knocks anything over, he just has to  
  
get  
  
out  
  
Eventually, when he makes it outside, he collapses against a wall, and his chest has tightened up and he feels sick and it's getting really rather hard to breathe. He gasps a little, looks down at his hands, and his _other_ arm's still kind of sore from that one Watchdog.  
  
Thanks, Lauren.  
  
Everything hurts now and he still can't breathe, and he doesn't know he's doing it until he feels a familiar sort of pain on his left leg and it occurs to him he's pulling his fur out again.  
  
Wander stares at his leg for a moment before taking a handful and yanking.  
  
His vision's swimming now, this did not help with the pain at all, and he still can't breathe and he wants to _die_ and he vaguely hears his name being yelled from somewhere but  
  
-*-  
  
...  
  
He's warm.  
  
This is, he decides, probably a good thing. Wander tries to sit up but his arms don't seem to be supporting him very well.  
  
Sylvia's sat over by a tree. Wait. Where there trees? He's fairly sure this planet was a diner last time he checked.  
  
Apparently not. Apparently, trees.  
  
His attempts at sitting up are a little more successful this time, and he pulls the blanket a little clos wait what blanket? Apparently. He's not sure where it came from. Maybe it was the hat.  
  
"Sylvia?" He barely recognizes his voice. It sounds odd, kind of small and wavery. Apparently this is enough, though. She comes over and sits with him.  
  
He doesn't want to look at her.  
  
"Hey, buddy." She leans over and runs a hand through his....hair. Head fur. Whatever. "Feeling any better?"  
  
He doesn't answer that.  
  
So they sit in awkward silence for a moment and she adjusts the blanket around his shoulders before speaking. "I didn't punch them, alright. But I did do a lot of yelling. I told them they were picking on a kid, and I also told them that their problems were miniscule and stupid compared to what you did for them."  
  
He still doesn't want to speak.  
  
"So then I went outside and you were just sort of bleeding and unconscious so. We moved. Did you have some sort of panic attack? You don't usually black out like that--"  
  
Wander lifts the hat and takes a look at his legs. One of them is bandaged. He has a feeling she's going to start keeping tabs on him now.  
  
"...They were right, though."  
  
Sylvia seems to actually react to this, which is understandable considering he's pretty sure he just interrupted her. "What?"  
  
"I did do all those things." And here he buries his face in his hands. "I do kind of break everything I touch. When was the last time I actually helped somebody with something?"  
  
"Uh. Your whole life? Look, Wander--"  
  
"I'm _useless_. I'm supposed to be going around helping folks and now I can't even do that!"  
  
"Wander."  
  
"I don't know how you put up with me."  
  
He's talking quietly, into his hands, and he's not sure if she can hear him, but he thinks she probably does because he feels a hand on his back. "Wander, listen to me."  
  
He can’t.  
  
Instead, he buries his head further into his hands, and he can feel her petting his head some more and she seems to have stopped talking. He wants to tell her that he’ll be fine, he knows she’s worried now and he doesn’t want her to worry about him but he has no idea how to vocalise this and at any rate he couldn’t speak if he tried.  
  
It’s getting hard to breathe again. He’s being moved and now he’s sort of. Flopped against her chest.  
  
She starts talking again.  
  
“Wander. You travel all over the universe trying to help people, okay. You probably help about a hundred people in a single day, and.” A pause. “I’m not going to be sappy about this. But you do a lot for people and if some jerks from Jerkland don’t want to recognise that, that’s their problem. You had a bad day, that’s all.”  
  
He doesn’t move.  
  
“You’re not useless. And. Don’t say that, okay? Because you say that a lot, and it’s not true. You’re.”  
  
She pauses again.  
  
“...You’re worth a lot to me.”  
  
Slowly, hesitantly, he looks up.  
  
“And I mean that. You’re literally the least useless person I know. And anyone who says otherwise is a....well, they just suck.”  
  
Wander offers a small smile and a very small giggle at that before promptly breaking down in tears.  
  
His face is gently repositioned against her chest and okay we’re doing petting again. He has no objections to this. It feels nice, especially considering the awful headache he has. He did not wake up feeling well rested, and the effects of almost a week without sleep are starting to make themselves very, very known.  
  
It only seems to get worse as he cries, in fact, and this makes him cry harder because god, everything just hurts now and he’s not had a good week and he kind of wants to sleep but that doesn’t look very likely.  
  
She’s saying something to him, it’s probably comforting and he could guess the sort of line she’s going along but he can’t hear her properly, he’s just too busy bawling his eyes out to concentrate on her actual words.  
  
It has the desired effect, though, in that he actually relaxes a little, and eventually the crying dies down to the point where he’s still leaking a little but the actual sobbing has stopped. He just sort of clings now in an awkward uncomfortable sort of way. His head’s still being petted, which feels even better now his headache’s so much worse.  
  
They stay like that for what feels like about three hours (it’s probably only really twenty minutes or so) before he feels her adjust his positioning, so he’s not really flopped and more being held. And then she says “Try and get some sleep, okay.”  
  
“I don’t know.” He mumbles. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to do that.”  
  
Sylvia looks doubtful. “If you don’t mind me saying, you look pretty darn exhausted.”  
  
“Yeah.” He doesn’t put much emotion into it. “I’ve been trying. It’s not really working."  
  
Another awkward silence. He’s not sure if this is the end of the conversation or not so he simply decides to snuggle a little closer instead.  
  
“...Unless you mean, uh. Move. And then sleep. I mean. I don’t want to be a bother--”  
  
“You fall asleep on my stomach all the time. If I minded, I would have said something.”  
  
Wander takes this as her way of saying that he’s perfectly welcome to fall asleep on her, and hesitantly pulls himself a little closer.  
  
He’s very comfortable here. He can hear her heartbeat and she’s petting him again. It’s a sort of nice reminder that she’s actually a real person, and she’s staying. She likes him enough to stay with him. It’s hardly remarkable, but he gets too self aware sometimes and things of things like this and it’s always a comfort.  
  
It’s getting kind of hard to concentrate on one thought at a time now. Wander squints a little and tries to work out how this is related to pie at all, before remembering that it isn’t.  
  
He sleeps for a fairly long time.


	6. Chapter 6

(He sleeps for a fairly long time and as far as she's concerned it's a fucking _blessing_.)  
  
He obviously needed it, she guesses. She doesn't know exactly how much he's slept since this whole thing began but she can't imagine it's much, considering. Not to mention, she thinks, he doesn't look well at all. She's not sure how he can manage to be covered in fur and still look pale but apparently that happens. Or maybe it's just her.  
  
She should probably move him. Waking him up would be absolutely _criminal_ with how long the poor guy's been trying to settle. (Not that she doesn't have experience of being a criminal. Haha.) (Wait no that wasn't funny.) She can't move him until she's absolutely sure he's not going to wake up if she does, so she sways him a little more and takes a look at his face.  
  
He's completely out of it.  
  
He's in deep and that puts a vague sort of smile on her face because that was a long time coming, and very, very gently, she untangles him from around her neck (when did he move his arms? She's not sure) and very very gently lays him down on the grass next to the tree she was sat near. He curls himself up in a little ball, cuddling into the blanket, and she grabs his hat and also very gently stuffs him in it.  
  
At least he's warm. That should help a little. If he got cold he'd wake up again and as previously stated that would be bad. She leans over and adjusts the blanket, untangling it from his shoulders (he'd kind of gotten caught in it and twisted it somehow when he moved) and draping it over him, and moves the hat around a bit too for the optimal level of toasty. And because nobody's around and she's finally comfortable with openly showing affection to people (well not people just him) she leans over and kisses his head.  
  
Satisfied with Wander's general body temperature, Sylvia leans back against the tree and reflects on how appalled the her of three years ago would be at this display of general and slightly horrifying sappiness. She then concludes that the her of three years ago was a complete and utter dick and moves on.  
  
It's kind of interesting how different her relationship with Wander is. She thinks back to Ryder and doing illegal shit with him and concludes this sort of thing just would not have happened. If he had a problem he'd tell her to get over it. And while she did at the time, and maybe it made her a stronger person, she can't help but think now that he was a bit of a dick. ( ~~Here he is the biggest douche in the uuuuniveeerse~~ she's getting off track.)  
  
Or maybe the whole abandoning her in the ship thing gave her some oversight.  
  
Well, of course their relationship would be different in some regard. What she had with Ryder was slightly romantically charged and very awkward and sometimes they almost died. With Wander it's more platonic, slightly maternal, and sometimes they almost die.  
  
She can sense a pattern here.  
  
But he's more affectionate, if that's not too large of an understatement to even bother making. She remembers him trying to hug her for the first time and how completely horrified she was. Why is this little fluffy thing hugging her. This is terrible. She's an outlaw. God damn it. Fast forward to now and she's just spent about an hour cuddling with him because he was sad. Which kind of puts things into perspective.  
  
Wander fidgets a bit. Sylvia tugs at his blanket some more and he quietens down considerably. She fluffs his hair some more and goes back to thinking.  
  
The awful thing really was that if Ryder had done that back when, if they'd broken into Hater's ship years ago and he'd left her like that then she would have been used to it. She would have just broken out and caught back up with him, and called him a flarf narbler and laughed about it. But it happened now and it made her realize that actually, come to think of it, he wasn't a very nice person.  
  
She's not sure where this train of thought is going, but it's making her feel kind of guilty, because  
  
She feels responsible.  
  
God, that's it. Whatever's happening to Wander now, whatever sparked this sudden phase of self hatred, she feels partly responsible for it. She didn't mean to abandon him or belittle him like that. Call her easily influenced. It's not an excuse and she knows that and she wants to apologise but she doesn't know how. And this doesn't make her feel bad about herself in the same way that he does, but it still makes her feel guilty, and guilty enough to move a little closer and start mussing his hair again.  
  
He really needs to stop putting himself down all the time, she tells herself. He really is wonderful. Wanderful hahahaha okay shut up that wasn't even _remotely_ funny. She makes a mental note to help with that. (His self esteem, not her pun skills. Although those do need improving.) He thinks the world of everyone except himself and while it's nice that he has so much faith in people it's really not a healthy attitude to have.  
   
Would it help if she was nicer to him, she wonders. She's never not nice to him (apart from that, and that makes her cringe, did she ever apologise for that? She probably should do that) but maybe she should compliment him more, or something. Try to convince him he's not worthless? The whole situation is difficult and it sort of makes her wonder how it happened considering how optimistic he usually is.  
  
Unless he's been like this all his life and he's just good at hiding it and she's just _stupid_ how did this never occur to her how did she not see it he called himself worthless to her _face_ back with the Insurgence Generals and she did not do _shit_. Oh god. Oh god, she is responsible, if only partially.  
  
So what does she do now? There's no way in hell she's pulling the "he's better off without me" bullshit because he'd see that as her abandoning him and that would just make things worse. She doesn't even want to leave him. Especially not now. He kind of needs her now. She just has to make sure she stops astronomically fucking up as far as emotions are concerned.  
  
Yeah. Always been a hard point.  
  
Wander's still asleep. This is good. It's probably been about another hour and that's not long as far as sleep is concerned but anything would help. He shows no signs of stirring any time soon, so she writes him a little note and tucks it into his hand as gently as possible so he'd notice it as soon as he woke up (if he did) and bubbles herself off to get a drink at the nearest available place.  
  
-*-  
  
She could have gotten about forty in the time it takes him to wake up.  
  
She's as quick as she can be, and he's still sound asleep when she gets back. He's barely moved, in fact, and she sets his drink down next to him (but no so next to him that he'd roll on it) and settles down with her own and a book. Books don't really interest her much; she does enjoy reading but it's hard to find something she'd actually _like_ to. Oh, there's a woman. And she gets married. And faints a lot. Has a baby. More fainting. She does nothing throughout the entire novel apart from faint and whine and be rescued. Women. Haha.  
  
More like gouge her eyes out with a fucking spoon. But it has to be a man doing it, because women are apparently too weak to pick those up.   
  
When she eventually finishes her book (misogyny notwithstanding) the first thing she does is take another look at Wander. He still hasn't moved at all, and she's tempted to check that he's still alive but then he fidgets some more and her worries are dispelled.  
  
She pulls out another book.  
  
Five books and about four hours later, she's bored out of her mind, and she's just about to sneak off for another drink when she sees Wander fidget some more.  
  
Sylvia shuffles a little closer to him, and yep, he's awake. He doesn't make any attempt to move apart from looking up at her. He still looks kind of unwell.  
  
"Hey."  
  
He doesn't answer that, but he does smile a little, and he stretches a bit under the hat before relaxing back into pretty much the same position he was just in. Sylvia's about to ask if there's anything he wants to do, but he answers that question by cuddling down under the hat and shutting his eyes again.  
  
Well. That's the decision made, apparently. She stays with him a little longer before getting her note back out and slipping it into his hand, before pulling out the orbal juice again.  
  
She's got work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that was mostly exposition sorry for the disappointment


End file.
